


That Time of Year

by storm_of_sharp_things



Series: MI6 for the Holidays [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Christmas fic, Fae & Fairies, Multi, Sort Of, Wild Hunt, Winter Solstice, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28269594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things
Summary: Well, whatdoeshappen at MI6 at Christmastime?
Relationships: James Bond/Q/Alec Trevelyan
Series: MI6 for the Holidays [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070975
Comments: 23
Kudos: 42





	That Time of Year

“But I always take two weeks off at Christmas,” Q grumbled.

“You _did,”_ Eve corrected him. “Before you were Quartermaster.” She plunked a takeaway container of soup on his desk and pointed sternly at it. “The Quartermaster is always busy during Yule. And the solstice is tonight.”

Q’s eyebrows rose. “Yule? _Solstice?_ Are we suddenly pagan, then?”

“Has...no one told you...?”

Q scowled at her. “Told me _what?_ Aside from being summarily informed that I no longer get my standard time off at the end of the year, no one’s said anything.” He frowned at her over the rim of his glasses. “ _You_ get time off though.”

She barked a merry laugh. “Oh yes, I definitely get off.”

Alec sauntered in, grinning at her. “Looking forward to solstice?”

“Of course. But why have you not told him about all this?”

“Oh, er, well, James and I decided it’d be easier to _show_ him than to _tell_ him. And honestly, he’d probably have thought we were pulling his leg. He didn’t believe us about All Hallow’s Eve, after all.”

She sighed. “I don’t know why he puts up with you two.” Alec waggled an eyebrow suggestively and she snorted. “I’ve seen you in the locker room and I assure you that’s not a large enough benefit to endure the rest of it.”

“Slander!” Alec cried dramatically. “Foul lies and falsehoods and...”

“I’m beginning to think she’s right,” Q broke in. “Go get James and then tell me what’s going on.”

“You can’t tell me St Nick is going to show up and try to come down some heating vent,” Q snapped as they gathered in the big lobby of the building.

Alec grinned. “If he did, he’d be considered a representative of a foreign power, invading in the dark of night to catch everyone unaware. So he’d be ours to handle, by rights.”

“Look, it’s not Santa Claus, Q,” James said, rubbing his back gently. “It’s a rather darker power - the Wild Hunt.”

“...the Wild Hunt,” Q said in flat disbelief. “We’re waiting around for a bunch of fairies to come chase us around the place?”

“It’s a special arrangement originally made during the world wars,” James said, glancing at the street outside. “Part of our protection against would-be supernatural enemies.” He grimaced at Q’s skeptical expression and glanced at Eve. “This is why we waited until the last moment.”

Mallory might’ve stifled a little snort and the word ‘cowards’ under his breath, but Q had bigger fish to go after.

“All right, so even presuming this is true, that the ‘fair folk’ show up in force on the winter solstice for a hunt and demand an annual sacrifice in exchange for protection against...whatever... How am _I_ involved?”

“Well,” Alec started.

“Here they are,” Mallory said sharply as the big front doors flew open.

Through the entrance trotted creatures that were only vaguely horse-shaped. Some hadn’t bothered to stop at four legs, and most had glowing eyes and teeth and claws that would make a tiger slink away in shame. On their backs, they carried riders dressed in leather and fur, hoods covering their faces. They all glinted with metal and jewels and feathers and the kind of decoration that Q normally dismissed as frippery, but none of it quite managed to disguise the essential deadliness of the whole pack. Q noted swords and knives, as well as various bows, rifles, pistols, and even a small rocket launcher, strapped across the broad haunches of one monstrous mount.

The leader of the Hunt, riding a black horse-beast with eight legs, had an impressive rack of antlers and a silver mask. As Q watched, fascinated, the mask slowly turned to survey the MI6 staff present.

“I see unfamiliar faces,” came the low voice. “And two that I expected to see are missing. How unfortunate to lose both stern Olivia and your faithful Artificer.”

“Indeed,” Mallory said, stepping forward. “But our pact remains.” Q was quite impressed with the way he stood his ground when the riding beast sidled closer to investigate him, huge eyes like burning embers trailing smoke.

The leader considered him. “Well then, has a sacrifice been prepared?” The silver mask swung expectantly to where Q stood with James, Alec, and Eve. Q felt a shiver of horror run down his spine.

Alec smirked. “Have we ever left you wanting in the past?”

Eve elbowed him and stepped forward. “A sacrifice is offered,” she said formally. And then she grinned and darted over and kissed the long face of the monster the leader rode and rubbed at its cheeks. “Hallo, sweetling, has she been treating you right? I think I’ve got some chocolate here somewhere.”

The beast purred loudly and rubbed against her, nudging at her pockets, and the leader swung down to loom behind Eve. “As if he isn’t spoiled absolutely rotten.” The mask was pulled off and Q was astonished to see a tall elegant woman with burning green eyes and hair like autumn leaves rustling around the base of her antlers.

Eve turned with a grin to be enveloped in what looked like a very familiar embrace. “Herne, it’s been a hell of a year. I’m already packed.”

“...wait, what?” Q hissed at Alec. “What is happening here?”

“Part of the annual sacrifice is that a member of MI6 spends Yule with Herne the Hunter.” Alec smiled reminiscently. “Most of us have volunteered in the past and, let me tell you, they don’t call it the Wild Hunt for nothing.” Alec smirked. “There were a few years where James and I went together. She seemed quite pleased about it.”

James cleared his throat lightly. “But then Eve caught her eye and they’ve been celebrating Yule together ever since.”

“MI6 is exchanging sex for supernatural protection?” Q didn’t know whether to laugh or be outraged.

“Oh the agreement is not just for companionable company,” Alec drawled. “There’s still the part _you_ have to fulfill.”

“Me?” Q squeaked, glancing at the hooded shapes now dismounting and drifting closer. “What do _I_ have to do?”

“Yule tech support,” Alec said. “Twelve days of it.”

Q blinked at him.

James patted his shoulder. “Well, they’re fae, right? They don’t exactly look human, so it’s not like they can show up at a reputable gunsmith or go to the local fixit shop with a broken laptop.”

“...Mac or PC?” Q found his mouth asking on automatic.

“Linux mostly,” Alec smirked. “They like their options as broad as possible.”

Q found his interest piqued in spite of himself and mentally slapped down his troubleshooting instincts. “Wait, no, I don’t...”

One of the riders loomed close, throwing his hood back to reveal an eager tusked grin. “Hey, I’m having this little problem with my tablet,” he said, offering Q a battered device with a scratched up screen.

Q blinked at the clawed hand grasping it, and abruptly snapped into quartermaster mode. “Well of course you are, running your claws all over the glass like that. Has no one ever provided you with conductive claw covers or something? You just come along with me to the workshop...”

Other riders crowded after, bringing various electronic devices and laptops and weapons, and Q gestured to James and Alec. They’d never admit to it, but they were perfectly capable as general repair techs or for fine-tuning weaponry and sights, and by God they would help him in this or they’d be sleeping outside for the next year. They exchanged a glance that meant they understood perfectly without him having to say a word aloud and Q nodded in satisfaction, turning his thoughts toward the needs of supernatural hunters with apparent smartphone addictions.

* * *

“James...” Q shifted in bed. It was snowing outside and, even for January, it was unseasonably cold. At least he’d gotten time off once Yule had ended. He’d insisted. “When you were telling me about the Wild Hunt, right before they showed up...”

“Mmm.”

“And you were saying it _wasn’t_ Santa Claus showing up that night...”

“Mm-hmm?”

“...you didn’t say Santa Claus _didn’t_ exist.”

James grinned. “You’re right. I didn’t say that.”


End file.
